Worse than Death
by rycbarm123
Summary: Wanda Maximoff is coping with the events that transpired after Civil War. She went into hiding with Clint, living with him at his farmhouse while the government figures out what to do with her. Unknown to her, they decided to kill her, citing her as an "untamable weapon of mass destruction" at Tony Stark's request. An old friend of Clint's hears about this, determined to save her.
1. Prelude

The farmhouse was still quiet, none of the occupants awake yet. There were six people inside, but only four of them were getting pleasant dreams.

With a gasp, the oldest bolted up. This one was used to sleeping lightly; he had years of being an Assassin for hire and SHIELD training under his belt. He looked around, remembering where he was. Home.

Clint Barton had the same nightmare again. It involved a teenager who should have been graduating high school. Instead, the young man grew up in a war torn country, and volunteered himself and his sister for dangerous, illegal experiments to try and help the city. And he did.

Until he got shot.

Pietro Maximoff had sacrificed himself for Clint. As far as he was aware, the young man didn't even know anything about him. But yet, he still took the bullets for him. He must have been incredibly stupid.

Or maybe he was just brave.

Clint's instincts told him that the nightmare wasn't the only reason he woke up. Careful not to disturb his wife, he grabbed a knife out from under his pillow and got out of bed. He made his way downstairs, and opened the front door. Sitting on the steps was a man who shouldn't have been alive.

* * *

"Wanda?" A soft rap on the door. Clint.

"What?" She muttered, burrowing deeper under the covers. It wasn't time to get up yet, was it? Living on the streets, she never would have reacted like this, but Wanda trusted Clint. Pietro… Pietro had given his life to protect this man. He owed her, and would never let willingly let harm come her way.

"Breakfast is ready. And," he hesitated, debating something. Clint was guarding his mind, unsure of how to phrase this. "You have a visitor. They're waiting for you downstairs."

Wanda waiting for the footsteps to retreat before rolling out of bed, sighing as she did so. Her feet touched the cold wood, giving her a sense of grounding. She sighed and bowed her head, letting her dark hair hang down. Another bad dream last night. The _same_ bad dream last night. She wasn't sure that it would ever stop. Her time in the Raft hadn't helped.

* * *

She made her way downstairs fifteen minutes later, careful not to wake Lila, Cooper, and Nathaniel Pietro. Before she even walked into the room, she was hit with Clint's thoughts- betrayal, uneasiness, and dread. Waiting for her at the breakfast table was Clint, who looked pale, shaky and guarded, and an unfamiliar man wearing a suit, who looked calm and collected.

Wanda was immediately alert, scarlet dancing on her fingertips at will and eyes turning red. If Clint didn't trust this man, then that was enough for her. "What do you want?" She demanded.

"At ease," Clint spoke, raising a hand to calm her. He still looked spooked.

"Wanda Maximoff," the strange man began. "My name is Phillip Coulson. I've come to help you. Maybe you should sit down. We have a lot to discuss."

Extinguishing her scarlet, Wanda cautiously sat down next to Clint, still wearily eyeing the man.

Still at ease, he started picking at his waffle that Wanda hadn't noticed before. "Did you not sleep well last night?"

Wanda picked at her sleeves, refusing to answer. She cautiously reached out to Clint's mind and asked, _Can I trust him?_

The Archer pressed his lips in a tight line, hesitating. _I don't know,_ he thought. _There was a time when I trusted him with my life. He's supposed to be dead, Wanda._

She raised an eyebrow at him, her fingers digging into her palms so hard she almost broke the skin. Almost.

"Having a nice chat?" Coulson asked, still idly picking apart his waffle.

A "ding" from the toaster oven startled the trio.

"That's your waffle, sorry Wanda," Clint said, getting up to retrieve it for her.

She nodded at him before turning back to the Suit, still not looking at his face. "So you're supposed to be dead?"

"I am," he confirmed. "Director Fury pulled some strings for me. I'm not sure if he pulled the same strings for Pietro, though."

At her brothers name, Wanda's head snapped up, аnd for the first time, she looked at Coulson head on. "What do you mean?"

Coulson smiled. "Like I said. We have a lot to talk about."

 **A/N- Hi guys! I hope you enjoyed this. This chapter is a little short; I promise the others will be longer. If you enjoyed this, please let me know! I should have the next chapter up fairly soon.**


	2. SHIELD

"Just hear me out," Coulson asked, leaning back in the kitchen chair. "Afterwards, if you want, you are completely free to go."

Wanda scoffed, crossing her arms across her chest. "Like I haven't heard that one before. That's what you all say; it's worked out well for Pietro and I so far, da?"

"Wanda," Clint pleaded, putting his hand on her shoulder. _Please listen to him. For me, if nothing else._

She stared at him for a minute, before reluctantly nodding. She would listen for Clint- he wouldn't hurt her. Coulson waited until he had her undivided attention before beginning.

"So you're aware of the battle of New York, right? Saw it on the news?"

"No, I was busy trying to survive to the next night with my brother," Wanda said, pressing her lips together.

Coulson shifted uncomfortably, pressing on with his story. "Well, anyways, before that took place, Loki was captured by SHIELD. He was brought aboard the Helicarrier, and managed to escape. He stabbed me in the back, literally, with the same scepter used to give you and your brother your powers. I was killed."

Clint bit his lip, looking ill. Wanda could swear he looked like he was about to throw up. She sent calming thoughts his way; it was too early in the day to throw up. The sun was just starting to rise outside the kitchen window.

"As I said a minute ago, Director Fury pulled some strings for me. It was called Project Tahiti," Coulson glanced at Clint, who furrowed his brow in confusion. Coulson continued with his story. "He hired some scientists at a secret location nicknamed the Guest House to come up with a drug that could bring someone back from the dead. They called it GH 325, which was extracted from a decomposing Kree soldier. And it worked. As you can see, I'm not rotting in a grave."

Clint crossed his arms, still scowling. "Laura, Nat, and I all went to your funeral. And I've never heard of this Operation Tahiti."

"Project Tahiti," Coulson corrected, "was kept off-record by Fury himself. He kept it off the books so the results couldn't ever be replicated."

"Were they replicated anyway?" Wanda asked.

"Yeah," Coulson admitted. "They were. A few times, actually. Myself, one of my agents Daisy Johnson, and John Garrett all received a dose. There were a few others, but they're okay now. As far as I can tell, we're the only ones. The original composition was destroyed as we left the Guest House."

"I'm sorry, wasn't Garrett one of the bad guys?" Clint interrupted, making a time-out gesture. "He was one of head honchos of HYDRA, yeah? And why was the original composition destroyed?" _And is he telling the truth?_ He mentally asked Wanda.

"You know I don't like going into people's heads unless I have to, Clint," Wanda said. Coulson glanced at her before turning his gaze onto Clint. "He's asking if you're telling the truth. _I'm_ gong to ask you for concrete proof. I don't go into other people's heads unless they give me permission, Agent Coulson."

"Yeah, if you had, maybe the airport fiasco wouldn't have happened," Clint snorted. Wanda shot him a look.

"Anyways," Coulson said. "Yeah, Garrett was actually _the_ head honcho of HYDRA. He's dead now. The whole compound went under after we forced our way in. It was hooked up to explode if there were ever any intruders. Theses guys were well aware of what they had in their possession."

"What does this have to do with my brother?" Wanda asked. Pietro was someone that the Barton household tiptoed around. Lila and Cooper knew what he had done for their father, and knew that he was Wanda's brother.

Coulson sighed, looking at Clint. "I'm assuming you didn't tell her?"

Clint stared at the table, hunching his shoulders. "No, I didn't."

"Tell me what?" Wanda demanded, eyes flashing again.

Clint took her hands in his own, ignoring the scarlet steaming off of them. "There is a chance he is alive somewhere, Wanda. I'm not sure how Coulson knows about this, but there have been rumors flying around SHIELD that someone pulled a few strings for Pietro. I already talked to Fury about it, and he says he had nothing to do with it. Of course," he glanced at Coulson, "he hasn't exactly been the sharing type recently."

Wanda felt an unpleasant pressure in her chest. "What are you talking about? If Pietro was alive, if he had lived, I would know. He would come back to me. He would _never_ just leave me."

Clint's phone let out an urgent _beep beep._ He ignored it. "Wanda. Try to reach out to him with your powers. You had a strong mental connection before he died, yes?"

She nodded, flustered. "I- yes. Yes, I did."

Another _beep beep_ from Clint's phone. "Try. I know it's painful, but try to reach out to him. This is something you need to know. If my brother was still alive-."

Wanda looked up at him. In the two years she'd known him, he'd never mentioned a brother to her. She hadn't even seen anything about it in his mind when he'd let her in so they could form a connection. "You had a brother?"

This time, Coulson's phone rang. He quickly answered it. "What?" After a few seconds of listening, he turned and looked at Clint. "Barton, answer your damn phone. That was one of my agents telling me that the United States has cited Wanda as a weapon of mass destruction, with the intent of putting her down."

Clint quickly released Wanda's hands and checked his phone, cursing as he read the messages. "This is Tasha telling me the same thing. Apparently, Ross is going off of everything Tony is saying, who doesn't have a lot of nice things to say about you. It's true. You need to get out of here."

"But Laura and the kids-"

"They aren't after us, they're after you. Leave now, before they wake up. They'll have nothing to lie about," Clint said, hauling Wanda up with him.

"But go where?" Wanda protested, gripping his arms.

"With me," Coulson said, also standing. "I promise me and my team can keep you off the radar, we have a few powered people ourselves. You'll be safe."

Clint nodded at him, looking eerily calm. "I'm going to _kill_ Stark for this. But for now-" He released Wanda's arms, and grabbed a small velvet box off the counter. He pressed it into her hands. "You'll always have a home here Wanda. Just maybe not right now." He gathered her into a tight hug before quickly releasing her.

Coulson checked his phone again. "The task force will be here in about seven minutes."

Clint quickly escorted the pair to the door. He gave Wanda one more tight hug before turning to Coulson. "Take care of her like she's my family, Phil. Because she is."

The pair disappeared into the rising sun.

When the Task Force arrived five and a half minutes later, they woke up everyone in the house, including the retired Avenger. The Witch had disappeared into the night while everyone else had been asleep.

* * *

Coulson and Wanda ran across the dewy lawn towards nothing. "Where are we going?"

Coulson pressed a hand against his ear. "May, start up the engines! Open the hatch, let's get out of here!"

An airplane hangar opened out of nowhere, startling Wanda. She hesitated, staring at it in fascination. Phil grabbed her arm. "Come on!"

They ran up the ramp, immediately greeted by a team of other people. One of them marched forward, staring at Wanda like she was going to explode.

"Coulson, what's going on?" This one was female. She was taller than average, and looked Chinese.

"Daisy, meet Wanda. Wanda, Daisy. Jemma, stop staring at her like that. The government is trying to put Wanda down due to the nature of her powers. May, let's go!" He yelled. The plane started moving.

Wanda shrank away from the one in front of her. She was shorter than the rest, with brown hair. "I'm sorry about this. I didn't mean for this to happen."

She produced a small syringe, and without warning, jabbed it into Wanda's arm. She didn't flinch. After all the liquid was administered, the woman looked up at her. "I'm Jemma. Let's get you to the lab for testing."

"You aren't the only one who's ever been on the run here," The one who asked what was going on said. Daisy. That was her name. "We're just glad we got to you before the government. And Jemma, let's let Wanda get back to bed. It's 5:56 in the morning and she woke up to some bad news. Let's get her settled, she can come back after she gets some rest."

Wanda looked at Daisy. "Thank you."

Daisy smiled at her and stepped forward, hugging her. "Welcome to the real SHIELD."


	3. Maxim

_Go kill this Minister. It'll start that war we've been talking about._

Whispered secrets and stolen lies were the only things he had access to nowadays- everything else was a secret.

 _Don't worry, Maxim, you won't remember this. Bite down on this, let us insert this needle here. No no, don't you dare fight back. We're the good guys, remember?_

Somehow, Maxim doubted that. He also doubted his backstory. A bomb going off in an apartment building seemed very unlikely, but these people were very… insistent. _He had lived with them his whole life_ , they said. The bomb had erased all of his memories. _Amnesia_ , they said. _We were gracious enough to_ _save you and_ _give you this gift. Use it for what we ask, and in return, you will be let out. Only three more missions before you can_ _go out into the real world to_ _live your life again._ _You owe us that much._

"My… next target?" Maxim asked the room. His hair was white, which didn't exactly make sense for someone his age… but then again, neither did super speed. Still, he felt like he was missing something, or rather, some _one_.

"Your next target is someone very dangerous, indeed," the man in charge spoke. They always seemed to be different each week- tough job. This one was very dissimilar from the last few- he looked younger, and was without the usual battle scars and injuries that they usually had. "She works for an off-record Government Agency, and has been MIA for months."

"You want me to bring her in?"

"We want you to kill her."

Maxim blinked, crossing his arms across his chest. He _hated_ the killing missions. Somehow, they felt wrong. He felt like this wasn't what he meant to do with his life. They flashed the picture on the screen, and he felt like he recognized her. "I- have I met her before?"

This particular group leader- who smelled of expensive cologne and cheap aftershave- curled his lip in a patronizing smile. "Of course not, Pie- Maxim. You've lived here with us your whole life. Just when would you have had time to meet her?"

 _I think I'll call you Aftershave_ , Maxim thought, while something else sparked in his mind. "What did you almost call me?"

"Not important." Leaning in to his assistants ear, Aftershave spoke softly, not aware that Maxim could still hear. "Wipe his memory after he gets back." A click. The picture disappeared off the screen.

Maxim frowned, trying to internalize the picture. The woman was very beautiful. In the picture, she was casually leaning against a wall, wearing a striped hoodie and hanging on a taller man, who was cropped out. She was smiling at him, which made Maxim thing that they were a couple- but something in his gut told him that wasn't right. "I'm sure I've met her before," he murmured to himself.

"What can you tell us about her, based off the photo alone?"

"She's short, maybe 5'2," Maxim responded. "Based off her facial characteristics, I'd say she was either Eastern European or Russian. The hair color is unusual, though. It makes her stand out. She should be easy to find."

"I was not referring to her physical characteristics, boy. We can all see the photo," Aftershave said. "Think more about what you will be facing. What are her strengths, weaknesses? Where will you be able to take her down? Will you shoot her, poison her, seduce her and _then_ kill her? Talk us through it. She is well aware that her hair color makes her stick out, don't underestimate her."

"Funny," Maxim said, rolling his shoulders back. "I have never had to tell the others my strategy like this. I always get the job done; you won't have to worry about that."

"I am not the others," Aftershave countered, mirroring Maxim's posture.

"Yes, I'm aware," Maxim mused. "Why is there such a high turnover rate, anyways? I've always wondered about that."

"Not important," Aftershave said. "Now answer my question."

"Nothing can touch or see me while I am at speed. I'll get it done. She won't even see me coming," Maxim said, trying to suppress a shudder. Now why had those words affected him? _You didn't see that coming… Odd._

"If you say so," Aftershave shrugged. "You leave in ten. And don't worry about your bag this time. We will have in sent to the hotel after you leave. Pick it up at the front desk after you wake up."

The case file was roughly pushed into his chest. He opened it, scanning the file. Great- he was headed to Siberia. Maxim let his eyes rest on the picture again. He was _sure_ he had known her.

* * *

Running across a huge body of water wasn't exactly what he would call _fun_. Yes, he could do it, but the amount of energy it took to get across was more than he generally had. It was a good thing that his _Friends_ started factoring that in to his missions. They now allowed him to have a full day off after strenuous running in order to complete the task.

Maxim almost collapsed once he reached his destination. He had run almost 6,000 miles in under ten minutes. New record.

He blinked, trying to ward off the dark spots threatening his vision and stability. Right now, he needed to get into the Hotel. It took most of his remaining strength, but he did it.

He staggered into the elevator, panting and leaning against the wall. He jabbed the button, probably with more speed than he intended to, because the button broke through the consul. Whatever. The corporation would pay them for a new button. They've had to pay to keep others quiet before.

With a pleasant _ding_ , the elevator screeched to a not-so-pleasant halt. The stupid organization had gotten him a one-star hotel. Again. Maxim continued, leaning on the moldy and water stained walls as support. How this one was still in business he had absolutely no idea. Room 345… room 347… room 349. Finally. It took him a few minutes to unlock to door, due to his shaking hands and vertigo. But he couldn't pass out now, dammit. He was too close. A few more seconds of fumbling, and the stupid door finally opened. As soon as he saw the bed, he collapsed.

* * *

He dreamed of bullets. None of them hit him, of course, but that didn't stop them from flying everywhere. There were strange metal men climbing out of the walls, and wisps of scarlet trailing the streets.

For some reason, the place looked familiar. Maxim was sure he had been here before. There were voices coming from an earpiece, all with foreign accents. American.

All had foreign accents except for one, a female.

Maxim was running, feeling the wind rush through his hair. He turned a corner, speeding past a woman with bright red hair with guns in her hands, firing at the strange metal men. But that couldn't be right. That woman was the one in his case file; she was his mission. He wanted to rewind, try to go back and talk to her, but he couldn't stop. This was only a dream, after all.

With a start, he sat up in bed, trying to process what he had seen. So he _had_ known his mission, assuming that that hadn't been a random dream. If there was anything he could be sure of, it was that he could trust his gut.

Maxim groaned, and checked his watch. Twenty one hours had passed; technically, he could still go back to sleep without penalty. But if he overslept, there would be consequences. He decided not to risk it. He rolled out of bed and grabbed the room key. Time to get the bag.

* * *

Exactly three hours later, Maxim was freshly showered, dressed, and walking out of the hotel. Time to canvas around to find his target. Natalia, she was called. Numerous others in the organization had tried and failed to kill her, according to his file. There was also a hastily handwritten note attached to it, saying, _"Do not personally engage with target"._

He wondered if that was to prevent him from having any of his old memories resurfacing. The longer time went on, the more sure he got that the organization wasn't what it had seemed. Only three more missions, though, before he could resume normal life. Maybe he could start a family, or find his missing one. He had a nagging feeling that they had been in the dream last night, he just hadn't seen them.

He took a right through a back alleyway. Broken, rundown entrance and shitty security? This seemed like the right place. Maxim grinned.

Inside was a secret nightclub presumably only for the rich and criminal, or maybe the criminally rich. There was something about the rich population that just… pissed him off. He had brushed it off.

He did a quick run through the entire building, finding her soon enough. He came to a stop twenty feet behind her, deciding to ignore the order to not engage. If she had answers, he wanted them. Besides, there was a very good chance that it really was just a weird dream, and she'd have no idea who he was.

Maxim appraised her, squeezing past the crowds of people and sliding into a booth just outside of her line of sight. If she was as good as the organization was saying she was, he had no doubt she would see him soon enough. Natalia was wearing a skintight green dress that matched her eyes, with her red hair in loose curls flowing halfway down her back. She was currently flirting with a much older gentleman, who had (what Maxim assumed) an unwelcome hand on her ass. His intel must be good, but Maxim wouldn't be surprised if his body was found in a river in the morning.

What confused him was, if she was known all over the world for her hair, why didn't she change it? According to her file, she was part of a well known superhero group known as the Avengers. It also said that she used to be a spy. Not anymore. There were certain parts of her file that were redacted to him, like some of her teammates names. He considered this odd. Why would certain names be redacted? The un-redacted ones were Thor, War Machine, and Falcon- all code names. He vaguely wondered what kind of poor soul got stuck with the awful code-name Thor.

Maxim sighed, impatiently tapping his foot. He had to have been here several hours, right? At least three. He checked his watch. He'd been here for two minutes. Damn. Time to engage. He slid out of the booth, and out of the crowds. Just act casual.

He approached her from behind, forced a smile, and tapped her shoulder. "Mind if I step in?"

Natalia turned her attention away from the older gentleman. Her eyes widened, and the blood drained from her face. She clamped a hand on her mouth, looking like she was going to be sick.

Maxim frowned. Not what he was expecting.

"Pietro?"

 **A/N- Yes, his name is Maxim, short for Maximoff. Please review!**


	4. Family

Natasha quickly grabbed Maxim's hand, completely disregarding the man she was previously focused on. She led him outside, roughly shoving past the casual clubbers, much to their personal annoyance. But she didn't care. Pietro Maximoff was standing right in front of her, actually living and breathing, not 6 feet underground like she (and the rest of the former Avengers) had previously thought.

There were a million and one thoughts flowing through her mind. How on Earth had the kid survived? She had even attended his funeral! His sister was an emotional wreck for months! And yet, he was still here. Finally, they made it outside.

"Yes?" he asked, slowing down.

"Not here," she responded, dragging him towards her safe house. "Too open."

The kid rolled his eyes and scoffed at that, but allowed to be lead in the separate direction. The wind was cold, but Natasha figured that it didn't bother him one bit- there had to be _some_ perks to super speed, after all. The two continued on in silence. Natasha refused to let go of his hand. She usually wasn't one for paranoia, but someone who should be dead was being dragged to her hotel room- she wasn't about to take any chances.

They reached it pretty quickly; it wasn't exactly hard to find. She had set herself up in one of the fanciest hotels in Moscow.

Pietro gave an appreciative whistle when he realized that was their destination. As they stepped inside, she let go of his hand. "I've got to make a call, excuse me."

His face shifted from curious to murderous. "Don't."

Natasha raised an eyebrow, tensing up. "Excuse me?"

"They can't know," he insisted. "Can we _please_ just get to your room so I can get some answers?"

"About what?"

"Who you are to me. If they found out I'm talking to you, bad things would happen," Pietro continued, wringing his hands.

Natasha's brow furrowed. "Pietro, what are you talking about? Are you saying that you don't remember me? You don't remember anything?"

He sighed, looking frustrated. "Can we please continue this conversation in your room? You're supposed to be dead right now. If they figure out I haven't..."

"Fine," Natasha said, holding up a hand to stop him. "Follow me, then." She led him up to the third floor. Her room was far enough off the ground that no one could climb into her window without difficulty. It was also chosen so that if any of Ross' goons came after her she could jump down and make a quick escape.

"Need anything to eat?"

Pietro waved away the request, instead choosing to sit on the edge of her sofa. He reminded her of of a spring- tense and under pressure. "How do I know you?"

Natasha bit her lip, trying to figure out how to phrase this. Instead of answering his question, she countered with one of her own. "Can you still run really fast?"

He snorted, leaning back in the chair. But before she could blink, he was holding her phone in his hand, and scrolling through the messages. Now, she knew that it was previously locked up in the safe two rooms away. He had managed to crack the code, get it out, and return in less than a second. He'd gotten _faster_. "Who is Clint? And why did you need to tell him that the US government is coming after a Wanda? Who is that?" He looked up at her, a curious expression on his face.

Natasha had to stop herself from crying. He didn't remember his sister. "Is that polite? Going through my phone unauthorized?"

"I mean, you're supposed to be dead right now, but..." he shrugged. "I figure talking to you before completing my task would be at least slightly courteous."

Natasha froze. If he wanted to complete the task, there was literally nothing she could do to stop him. "Are you being serious?"

Pietro grinned at her, relaxing. "Nah, something tells me you're one of the good guys. Now, answer my question, please."

"Which one? I think you had three," Natasha teased, joining him on the couch. She sat on the other end, casually slinging an arm over the armrest as if she couldn't be killed in less than a split second.

"Four, actually," Pietro corrected. "But now I have five. Better start answering them."

Natasha returned the grin. "What's the fifth one?"

He tilted his head at her, similar to Wanda's. "Is my name really Pietro? Cause I was told it was Maxim."

"As far as I'm aware, yeah. Your name is Pietro," Natasha said, crossing her legs. "Can you repeat your other questions for me?"

"Why?" Pietro asked.

"Maybe I forgot them," Natasha countered.

"Or maybe you're stalling for time. I know you have perfect memory. At least, that's what it says on your file," Pietro shot back.

"Maybe I shouldn't answer you here. Maybe I would do better to show you, instead of tell you." Natasha said. "Maybe some things would surprise you."

Pietro opened his mouth, then shut it again. He leaned forward on the couch, propping his elbows on his knees. "Who do you think I work for, Natalia?"

Natasha watched him. "If I had to guess, I'd say HYDRA."

"Bad guys?" Pietro asked.

"Yeah. They're run by Nazis. That part wasn't known until Cap uncovered the organization within SHIELD. That's who you and-" Natasha had to stop herself from saying 'Wanda'. Pietro looked back at her over his shoulder. "Who you and a lot of your friends from your homeland thought they were joining. They gave you your super speed, sometime back in 2014, I think."

Pietro nodded, facing the wall again. "They told me that much. They also told me I was required to complete missions for them, as a token of my gratitude towards them for saving my life."

Natasha tensed up again. "Do you know what they meant by that?"

"A bomb went off in my apartment building a few years ago. I was badly injured, but they managed to save me from the rubble. I didn't know where I was, or who I was, but they took care of me, nursing me back to health. I was told I didn't have any family, and that no one would go looking for me."

"No one went looking for you because we thought you were dead," Natasha said quietly.

Pietro looked at her again. "Are you my family?"

"Not exactly," Natasha said, meeting his eyes. "Like I said, it's better to show you some of these things. Can I please make that call now?"

Her phone was handed back to her. "Put it on speaker."

* * *

"Coulson!"

He turned to see Jemma standing in the doorway, crossing her arms across her chest. "What?"

"Do you have any idea what you've just done? You brought a known, wanted fugitive onto the bus, and you just expect it to be okay?" She said, raising an eyebrow.

"Yes, I do. We did for Daisy, Lincoln, hell Jemma, everyone on this bus is a wanted fugitive," Coulson said. "What is your problem with Inhumans?"

Jemma stared at him, an unreadable expression on her face.

"Your best friend is an Inhuman," Coulson said, sighing. "Get over it. And please remember to treat Wanda like a human being, okay? Her life has been rough enough as is."

Jemma pursed her lips, but reluctantly nodded. "I know that."

"Go," Coulson said, making a 'shooing' gesture. He turned around, walking away. "Play nice. Make friends. Go see what Daisy has been up to."

"I'll do my best," Jemma said.

Coulson smiled, turning a corner into the main hub of the bus. Wanda was standing next to the minibar, staring outside the window with an unreadable expression on her face. She turned as she head Coulson approached.

"Hi," she said.

"Hello," he returned, standing next to her. "How are you doing?"

Wanda shrugged halfheartedly. "Been better."

"You miss him," Coulson said.

"Which 'he' are you referring to?" She asked, turning back to look outside the window again.

Coulson hesitated. "Pietro."

"Of course," Wanda said. "I'll always miss him. And don't start up with that 'he could still be alive' stuff again. I can't… I can't even..."

"It'll be okay," Coulson said, gently touching her shoulder. "We can talk more about this after you've had some time to adjust."

Wanda nodded, wiping her eyes. "I've tried to reach out to what our bond used to be, and he's just not there anymore. I've tried to look around the world for anyone that could hint at who he is. Nothing."

"Why don't we go back to Sokovia?' Coulson quietly suggested. "Maybe that could give you a sense of grounding that you've been lacking."

"I haven't been back since the battle," Wanda said. "Not sure if I ever want to return."

"Think about it," Coulson said, clapping her shoulder. "I'll be in the cockpit with May."

"Wait," Wanda called. "The small British one."

"Jemma?"

Wanda nodded. "Her. Did I upset her somehow?"

Coulson shook his head. "Nah. I don't think so. She just needs to warm up to you. Daisy is excited about having you on board though. Why don't you go track her down?"

Wanda gave him a small smile.

 **A/N- Hey! I am really sorry about the wait. School just started up again, and life has been pretty hectic. If you enjoyed this chapter, please review!**

 **And if anyone would like to be my beta, please let me know!**


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